


Maccabee

by fencingfox



Series: qorDu' Means Family [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: 25 Days of Voyager, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: After accidentally insulting B'Elanna, Tom sends Miral to play out a carefully crafted plan.
Relationships: Miral Paris & B'Elanna Torres, Miral Paris & Tom Paris, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: qorDu' Means Family [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1467097
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15
Collections: 25 Days of Voyager (2019)





	Maccabee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeemaG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeemaG/gifts).



> SoSnI' - grandmother

Miral bounded into the room giggling. She immediately ran to Tom's side as B'Elanna's irritated tone cut into the room from the one adjoining Tom's writing office. Tom couldn't help but grin at his daughter: _At'a girl._

"Tom! Did you set your daughter up to this?" He grinned at the possessive pronoun she thought to use. This was definitely a _his daughter_ kind of thing for her to do. He'd even encouraged it. Tom turned to face the doorway. Miral climbed into his lap giggling still as Tom heard B'Elanna's strident steps move near them. She was settled against his chest, shaking with laughter and scrambling to bring Tom's arms around her middle like a shield by the time B'Elanna saw them.

His radiant wife settled her hands on her hips. There was a towel over her shoulder and a grease spot on her forehead above her ridges. He guessed she'd finally decided on repairing their temperamental replicator after it broke down in a cloud of inky smoke when he tried requesting an apple for Miral. He kissed the top of Miral's head and shook his arms a little to wordlessly ask her to calm down. She stopped giggling, but from the look on B'Elanna's face, she probably wore another thing she'd inherited from her father: a smug grin.

"I didn't ask her to do anything," he said, ever so lightly emphasizing "ask." He wouldn't be so forward on the off chance it turned B'Elanna's annoyance into anger. This was all in jest anyway.

"Right, you suggested she do it," B'Elanna said, adding her own soft emphasis to "suggested" that made it clear to Tom she'd not missed his verb choice. She seemed to understand the game because she could barely contain a smile. B'Elanna approached to tickle Miral's left side in retaliation. Miral squirmed, bending sideways to hide her side. Tom spun his chair to the right and away from B'Elanna's hand to protect his courageous daughter. She'd defeated her mother's sour mood successfully all on her own. He felt proud.

"Actually, I told her," he said. B'Elanna stopped tickling Miral with a smile and brushed the hair covering part of her daughter's smiling face out of the way. They had their own wordless conversation before Miral lifted her father's arms above her head. B'Elanna tickled his exposed left side mercilessly. He couldn't break away, pinned down as he was by Miral, without hurting someone.

Laughing, he pleaded almost breathlessly, "Stop, stop!" Maybe Miral defeated B'Elanna's sour mood a little too well, but they did stop. Tom wrapped his arms around his daughter, twisting at the waist to playfully jostle her. She giggled and he stopped after a few moments to give his attention to his wife as well.

B'Elanna wore a smile, but her tone had an undercurrent of seriousness, "Okay, so what is it you wanted to ask?"

"What makes you think I wanted to ask you something?" She watched her own hand as she stroked Miral's hair while they spoke.

"You sent Miral in to tickle all the sad out," she said, reverting to a phrase they used with their daughter.

"Daddy want to 'elebwate Kanukah," Miral answered happily.

B'Elanna addressed her daughter with only a glance back at Tom, "He does does he?" She stopped stroking her hair to listen.

"Mmhmm; He tol' me." Miral bounced in Tom's lap, forcing him to hold her a little tighter so she wouldn't hurt him. "I wanna 'elebwate too." Tom saw B'Elanna consider it. He wasn't sure how she'd respond to giving Miral yet another holiday and yet another heritage to consider. It's why he wanted her in a good mood before he asked.

She'd been reluctant to share anything overtly Klingon with Miral that their daughter didn't already have by genetics. Tom spent a long time convincing her it was a good idea to let her mother talk Klingon myth with her granddaughter. They were both glad they did that upon seeing Miral curled up on a pile of blankets in front of the modest viewscreen in the living room for their first story time. He knows she adores the now weekly story time with _SoSnI'_ Miral.

"I don't know, Tom." He unwrapped his arms from Miral and patted the side of her leg to ask her to get up. She did. Tom stood to wrap his arms around his wife's waist and leaned back as he heard Miral's soft pattering step out of his office. He couldn't be sure she wouldn't eavesdrop, but that was not something he needed to concern himself with now.

"What don't you know?"

"You said so yourself; we're spoiling her."

"She's not spoiled. She's well-behaved; she listens to us. I really was joking." It was the same joke that had brought on B'Elanna's sour mood in the first place. He saw how torn his wife was about repairing the replicator after. He pictured her weighing his comment against the necessity of having a functional replicator. Knowing her, the contest was probably close.

Tom realized too late that the joke might have come across as insulting her parenting. She'd been the one Miral actually asked about the apple. He was just free to replicate it. When the replicator broke, he joked that it thought Miral was being spoiled and thus, couldn't replicate her treat.

"But, Tom, _another_ holiday? With more gifts? It sounds like spoiling to me," she grumbled.

Convincing B'Elanna that accepting her father's invite to a Christmas Eve celebration had been hard work too. B'Elanna still didn't entirely trust him not to cut ties with Miral suddenly. He knew that fear was magnified this year now that Miral was turning five in the next. Her father'd never invited them before now. Admittedly, he couldn't help to wonder why the change like B'Elanna had. He'd convinced her the reason was precisely _because_ Miral would be five next summer. He figured her father likely wanted to show her how he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"We wouldn't have to get her anything extravagant." He chuckled, "She'd probably be happy with bigger bowls of fruit each night." That earned him a fleeting smile. "We really don't even have to get her anything if that's what worries you."

"Your sister only celebrates Christmas and we do that already. Why both?"

They normally spent the evening with his older sister and her kids. Moira has three: Thomas (she'd had him when _Voyager_ was considered lost), Jackson (two years younger), and Emily (a year older than Miral). He'd worried that Miral would be upset not to play with Emily, but Miral was all for seeing her other cousins and her grandfather. He accepted the invite from B'Elanna's father for her early last week and told his sister that they'd come by on the afternoon of Christmas day instead.

"My family used to celebrate both every year." He explained when B'Elanna looked at him with confusion, "Moira's husband's family celebrates Christmas. She never did have a preference anyway."

"Why is it important to you?"

Tom mentally transported to his first dual holiday. Mom had been buzzing around for months getting things ready. His older sister got wrangled into helping and he just was curious about all the stories and replicating candles and buying a tree and making ornaments with Dad and choosing a dreidel for himself with Mom. He remembered being so happy.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, "I want her to have really good memories of this place," he looked around to gesture to the house at large. "I want her to feel like she can always come to us for anything." He wasn't sure how the lump got in his throat, but it was there now and he'd have to deal with it. He stopped talking. He wasn't even sure how another holiday would help Miral think that she could come to them for anything. It just somehow felt right to give her everything that he could. Maybe she'd use the abundant time together to conclude how much her parents loved her.

B'Elanna considered his face. He could see her working out that, while he seemed fine to go either way, he'd be much happier if she'd agree. She tilted onto her toes to kiss him softly and hugged him for good measure. He felt the lump dissipate under her affections by the time she dropped back to her heels.

"We can celebrate Chanukah, Tom," she answered with a gentle smile.

"You really don't mind?" Years with her had taught him to be a little skeptical of her agreements. One night from one year so many ago in particular: he recalled how she'd been close to breaking things off with him the weekend he proposed in the _Delta Flyer_.

"I don't mind. She's as much your daughter as much as she's mine," B'Elanna rested her head against his chest in the way he loved, "and you were right about sharing all the Klingon myths with her. I was just being too..."

"Paranoid? Worried?"

"Hmm. Both. Do we need to get anything?"

"Just oil. I should still have my old menorah somewhere." Later, once they'd put Miral to bed, Tom dug around the belongings he'd gotten from his childhood home once they'd returned to the Alpha Quadrant. The low seated menorah brought back too many memories to wag a finger at. Foremost was that it'd been too long since holding it in his hands. A pang of guilt followed him as he took the menorah into the living room for later. The last time he'd used it had to have been his senior year at the Academy. He felt so pressured by his father to succeed that he'd nearly forgotten until his mother called to remind him to be careful with the fire on the first night. It was one of those years where the first few nights fell during his finals period.

It was strange. He felt connected to both traditions but he never felt any guilt over forgetting something for Christmas. It wasn't like he could easily forget anyway. By November most stores had their holiday displays in full swing and ninety percent of them featured pine trees strung with lights and ornaments. Still, he'd convinced himself it wasn't worth the trouble of replicating a menorah and oil for the years on _Voyager_. Fire and starship interiors don't mix.

"You coming to bed?" B'Elanna soft voice pulled him out of his memories. Tom glanced back at her.

"Yeah, in a bit." He looked down at the bronzed menorah in his hands and set it on the windowsill with the silent promise not to mess this up for either himself or for Miral. He took one final look at it before turning in for the night.

If he'd been better prepared, he'd have gotten Miral her own menorah and wax candles. she was too young to trust with oil. Next year, he'll be prepared. With a sense of awe, he could picture his with wicks burning for the last night. B'Elanna would hold Miral just high enough to see and she'd be transfixed on the lights. He'd say the blessings, light the wicks, and draw them both close to gaze at the way the fire danced.


End file.
